Doing the Lord’s work here, putting a 240 Z back on the road in some form or fashion. I like it better when these projects just restore the cars to their original looks, maybe with upgrades to the way they run. But we’ll take what we can get. New cars ain’t got no soul, so you have to look in the graveyard for some.
Well, it’s got a gearbox like a Rubik’s cube, but I do believe I could handle that sucker. Of course it costs more than buying your average island, including Rhode Island, I think, so I won’t get the chance. But every red-blooded borderline boy has always wanted to wrap a Ferrari around something. Dad’s Ferrari, I mean. I’d feel bad if I crashed my own Ferrari.
We’re Borderline Sociopathic boys. We’ve spent a lot of time at junkyards. Sometimes dropping off after we take a hairpin corner at 70 MPH, sometimes picking up our next beater. Of course we spent our pre-driving youth in the junkyard, too. We’d climb over the barbed-wire fence after hours and turn over the odd abandoned engine hood looking for snakes. For a true Borderline Boy, the junkyard is Disneyland. I don’t know why more businesses don’t pick up on that, and mine those places for all they’re worth.
Take for instance this modified and hyper-restored E-Type Jaguar. I want one. In the distant past, I would have wanted two of them, because one of them wouldn’t start, so you could drive the other, until the next day, when that one didn’t start, and you drove the other. But they seem to have straightened out everything under the hood, and recharged the Lucas Electrical Harness Smoke Reservoirs.
1. Buy a junkyard
2. Restore the cars
It beats making electric cars in a tent in Fremont. The batteries are already in the cars, and they’re full of sweet, sweet lead already. And remember, Mrs. Peel is never going to clamber into your Kia. Get a proper car.
There is, apparently, no Rule 2.